My Way or the Speedway
by TheCrowMaiden
Summary: Eustass Kid's the mechanic, and Killer's the driver of a rookie stock car racing team. Trafalgar Law is the genius doctor that patches Kid up after an accident. Kid's not one for bed rest though, and it's up to his doctor to make sure he stays out of trouble. -AU with Kid x Law shipping. Rated M for Kid's foul mouth. Will not ever be explicit as far as bedroom activities go.
1. Chapter 1 - The Racetrack

Heat rose off the asphalt in rippling waves making the cars on the track seem insubstantial in a way, as if they were all mirages spinning around the track. The stink of the oil and burned rubber gave the scene substance, and as every car passed the hum of their engines spiked briefly over the continuous dull roar of the rest. The stands were full, and the spectators added their own layer of noise to the mess, cheering mixed with vendors selling drinks, pit crews yelling, lug nuts being tightened, and above all of it the engines.

The engines were the only sound Eustass Kid was interested in. Set back from pit lane in the garage, he focused on the sound of the cars, trying to pick out the sound of the Crimin-sponsored Ford that his best mate was driving. The regulation coveralls were far too warm in the summer heat, sweat sticking the material to Kid's back and his goggles fogging up as he waited. He hoped that Killer wasn't getting dull from the rising temperatures; there were thirty laps to go in the race.

Kid spat on the ground, and pushed his goggles up his forehead and into his sweaty red hair.

"Fuck the safety rules." he grumbled. He knew no one would have the guts to call him out on it even if they could see him.

The NewWorld 500 was the biggest championship race in the whole country, and the race they were currently in was the last chance they had to qualify for it. They had missed out the last two years and Kid and Killer had sworn that this would be the year they not only qualified; this would be the year they took the title, the money, and the win. It was convenient that shortly after the made that decision their sponsor implied that small scale titles were no longer good enough. If they hadn't already sworn to make that year their year to haul ass, Kid would have made Killer throw the qualifier just to piss Crimin off.

With a screech of worn rubber, their Ford pulled into the pit stall, and the crew leapt over the walls to service the star and stitches emblazoned stock car. Kid stayed where he was, listening critically to the sound of it idling. Nothing gave him cause for concern, and he watched the crew change the tires with disinterest. He glanced at Killer to see how he was faring, and though the helmet and visor made it impossible to tell his expression, Killer flashed a thumbs-up to the redhead before taking off.

Ten laps to go and Killer was in tenth place. If he could hold it, they would be going to the NW500. The anticipation was now worse than the heat, and Kid yanked at the collar of his coveralls to catch a breeze. They were going to fuck up the competition like no tomorrow at the championship race, and it was hard to wait another ten damn laps to get started.

A sudden collective gasp from the crowd caused Kid's head to whip around as he lunged around the garage to see the other side of the track. The car in fifth had clipped the car in fourth and sent it into the wall, and now both cars were spinning out of control. Almost in slow motion they struck the sixth placed driver and slid toward the inside track, smoke billowing out of two of the hoods and leaving debris behind them. The car directly behind lost speed and dropped back to avoid the mess, and there was another gasp from the crowd as one car sped straight past them all.

"Hell yeah!"

Kid jumped up onto a bench and hollered when he saw Killer careen around the bend and take up the fourth spot in the line, just before the yellow flag went up to declare a state of caution. With only two laps left and a pace car coming out to keep the drivers at a steady speed while the accident was checked out, the places were basically set in stone. The pit crew was already cheering, and there was a mixed response from the crowd who booed and cheered in turn. The cheering began to dominate as the drivers involved in the accident all walked away from their cars, waving to signify they were alright. Kid didn't care anyway, and he headed over to pit lane to wait for their car.

The checkered flag finally waved, and the drivers piled out of their cars to greet crews and reporters. Kid got to Killer first, and put him in a headlock with a whoop.

"Way to take advantage, you lucky bastard!"

"Hey, don't damage the driver," Killer replied, not resisting his mechanic's iron grip, "you need me."

"Damn straight." Kid said, releasing his friend and punching him in the shoulder with a grin. "No go talk to the vultures who want a printable quote."

The hovering reporters did look slightly predatory, and Kid laughed when Killer muttered something unflattering about them under his breath.

With Killer handling the media, Kid went to inspect the car. He was somewhat surprised and more than somewhat pissed to see race officials already there, and messing with the car no less.

"What the hell is going on?"

One of the men turned to him, completely unafraid of the mechanic. "Grandline Race procedures require that the first five placing vehicles be inspected for adherence to rules and regulations concerning the engine and entirety. Your car will be returned in a maximum of four hours."

"You fucking kidding me?"

"Those are the rules."

Kid was about to suggest where the man put his rules, when Killer put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it hard. The redhead growled, and turned to the other man, understanding that his temper was going to get them into a shitload of trouble. The pit crew were all drinking champagne and laughing, and Killer forcefully steered Kid toward them.

"Look, we're all going to hit the bar and celebrate. You should come."

Still seething, the mechanic pulled free from the other man. The victory had been soured by the thought of a bunch of asshole officials fucking around with his perfectly tuned engine, but it was no reason to pass up getting drunk. And they had come in at the top five after all. They deserved to get really, really drunk.

"Yeah, I'll come."

…~…

It was well after midnight when the party wound down, and Kid thought it was impressive that they could all still walk under their own volition. Some of the crew tumbled into cabs to get home, and some of the others decided to walk over to the next bar and keep the drinking going. Killer was one of them. Still fairly sober, he barely swayed as he walked over to the table Kid was at.

"Coming to the next one?" Killer asked, sitting and inspecting Kid's half full beer.

"Nah." Kid stood up a little unsteadily and dug out his wallet. "I'm going to go make sure those official fuckers didn't wreck the car."

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"Hell no."

Killer shrugged at that, and got back up. "Alright. Just checking."

Kid watched the other man go before wandering back to the garage where they kept the car stored. It took him a few tries to find the lights, and when he got them on he could see the Ford was in its usual spot, looking no worse for wear than any other day. Still, he wasn't going to let visuals appease his worry.

It was a little harder than usual to crank the jack, but he got the front of the car high enough so he could get under it. He dragged his toolbox over and lay down on his back under the wheel well, not even bothering with the creeper. From the light of the small flashlight he kept handy, everything seemed normal, until he noticed a lump of something stuck up past the axel.

Swearing under his breath about careless idiots who didn't care about other peoples stuff, Kid gripped the flashlight in his teeth and reached up to try and dislodge it. Whatever the hell it was, it felt jagged under his glove, and Kid started to suspect it was debris from the accident on the track. It was jammed in tight, and in his frustration and inebriation, Kid yanked on it as hard as he could.

The last thing Kid heard was the snap of the jack slipping out of place, and then his left side was on fire.

* * *

_(Hey y'all! I'm not really a shipper of Kid x Law, but I'm cool with it as a pairing. I find it fascinating actually. I just thought I'd throw that out as warning. Also this is not totally accurate to racing, but I have based it loosely on NASCAR. This will be my first time posting a story where I haven't finished all the chapters. Wish me luck!)_


	2. Chapter 2 - The Bar

_(Warning: This chapter contains blood and violence.)_

The first thing Kid thinks when he opens his eye, is that the garage ceiling has never been so damn clean. It's whiter and brighter than what he remembers, and he has to squint to try and make out the details. As he grows accustomed to the light, he realizes someone is sitting or standing next to him, and he opens his other eye to see them clearly.

That's when he realizes he can't open his left eye, and he can't move his left arm. His first thought is that the strange person is restraining him, and he takes a swing at the stranger with his right. But what was supposed to be a strong hook to the mystery man's jaw turns into a sluggish flail and Kid's fist drops uselessly into his lap. He thinks he hears laughter at this, and his anger helps clear his mind.

"Wha' th' fuck you laughin' at?" He growls, the words slurring a little. He finally can see his surroundings properly, but knowing he's in a hospital does nothing to improve his mood. "Th' fuck am I doin' here?"

"You had an accident, Mr. Kid."

The voice belongs to the mystery man, and Kid glares at him. He still can't focus on details properly, but he registers short and shaggy dark hair and a white coat with a polar bear pin on the lapel. Kid groans and tries to focus on the doctor. A polar bear? What the hell was this guy, the paediatrician?

The doctor ignored Kid's glares and opened a manila folder before glancing back to the redhead.

"At approximately 2:05 am you had an accident involving an improperly used car jack that resulted in your being trapped beneath a vehicle."

There was zero interest or sympathy in the man's tone as he flipped to another page in the folder, and made a small note with a pencil.

"Your radial and your humerus were both broken on impact. Your ulna was partially crushed. Your hand suffered no breakages, only minor sprains with the exception of the index finger. Four titanium plates and a total of twenty screws were utilised in setting the bones."

Once more a page was flipped, and another note made.

"You also suffered severe facial lacerations that required a total of fifty stitches on the left side of your face. There was no damage to your eye, though you made find it difficult to see from it due to swelling."

Seemingly finished, the doctor closed the folder and smiled at Kid. It wasn't a friendly smile though; Kid found it a bit sadistic. He chose to instead look at the doctor's coat, and this time he was able to make out the name tag under the polar bear pin: T. Law.

"So when do I get outta here?" Kid asked, scowling. He was starting to feel a dull throbbing in his arm and face and he wanted to get away from this Law creep, who seemed to be amused that Kid had pretty much dropped a car on himself.

"You will be examined later, and pending the doctor's approval you will be discharged at that time." Dr. Law seemed bored again, and stood. "It has been two days since your surgery, and as I was your surgeon I am confident there are no complications."

The doctor left and as soon as he was out of sight, Kid hauled himself upright. Sitting up in a hospital bed was slightly less demeaning than lying down in one in his mind. He still felt sluggish, but he could see clearly at least. With his right hand he probed at his face, trying to feel out the stitches. As far as he could tell, they ran under his eye and all down the side of his face, and even on his forehead. He would be damn lucky if his eye really was undamaged.

He had to turn his head over quite a bit to survey all the damage to his body. A neat line of stitches that seemed to start near his neck ran down his shoulder, and vanished into a cast that went from just under his armpit down to his hand. His fingers and thumb were left free, though one was taped up. The cast held his arm bent at almost a forty five degree angle, and the material was a shade of red that almost matched his hair.

"Hilarious."

He had the feeling the colour choice was deliberate.

Shortly after Kid had gotten up and struggled into a shirt, a different doctor came in with paperwork and release forms and told him he was free to go after he signed off. Apparently the young man was intimidated by the redhead and didn't want to give him any form of a check up. Kid took the papers, eager to get away, and he noticed the section about how to care for his cast.

"What do you mean eight fucking weeks?!" He yelled, jabbing his finger into the doctor's chest. "I have to wear this damn thing for two fucking months?!"

The doctor cowered away, stammering about the time being needed for Kid's bones to heal properly and something about the severity of the breaks. The snivelling was even more annoying than the information. Although Kid would have loved to let his temper go and shut the doctor up, ending up in jail wasn't an agreeable idea when he wasn't in full form. So he signed the papers, tossed them onto the bed, and stormed out of the hospital spewing profanities.

Kid immediately made for the garage. It was late in the afternoon, and he figured the whole crew would be around. He needed to find out if he fucked up the car along with himself, and fix it if he had. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, and the walk took him a little longer than usual. The long arm cast might have gotten him some pity or sympathy from the other people out walking, but his murderous mood was clear in his face and everyone stayed well away. Which was really a good thing; Kid hated pity.

There was a little office attached to each garage stall, and the one they used was lit up when Kid got there. He went past the door though, straight to where the car was. He had a vague sense of déjà vu when he flicked on the lights and saw the Ford sitting in it's usually spot, visually perfect. The only sign that his accident had happened was the unnaturally clean floor, scrubbed no doubt because of the blood.

"The car's fine, Kid."

Killer was leaning against the doorframe, his wild hair falling into and obscuring his face. The pit crew were crowded around behind him, most of them trying to covertly check out the extent of Kid's injuries. A couple looked relieved, but most of them looked apprehensive. An uneasy felling settled into Kid's gut as he gestured to the floor.

"You telling me I broke its fall or some shit? That hard a landing has to fuck with something."

"Relax," Killer said, standing up straight, "The axel was a little out of line, but Hawkins already fixed it. Car's ready to go for the NewWorld."

Now Kid knew why the crew looked nervous. They all knew how much he hated anyone else messing with his work. He clenched his fist, fighting the urge to break something. "Why the hell would that freak be fixing our car?"

"Because…he's the new mechanic."

"WHAT?!"

Out of all the reasons for Hawkins to be involved with their car, Kid had not been expecting that one. Even if logically it made sense, considering how fucked up his arm was, he had assumed he would just be learning to manage one handed and they would still be going to the championship together. He kicked a toolbox off the stool and booted the car jack to the floor, and looked around for something to throw.

"Look, Kid!" Killer was pissed off now, as he always was when the redhead was needlessly causing a ruckus. "You're in no shape to be working! We didn't even know if you were going to be let out of the hospital before the race. The owners told us they liked Hawkins and would pay the extra to hire him and that was that."

"'That was that?'" Kid gritted through his teeth, his chest heaving in and out as he seethed. The fact that it sounded like Killer hadn't even tried to keep Kid on as the mechanic made everything that much worse. "Fine, use Hawkins. See if I care what the fucking owners do."

He stormed out the door, pushing past Killer and scattering the crew like ninepins. He knew he wouldn't be able to goad any of them into fighting him, and Kid needed a fight. He needed a brawl, needed to feel bones break under his fists so he could work off the temper he'd built up all day. The only problem was finding a bar that was far enough on the wrong side of the tracks where people wouldn't hesitate because of the cast. The fibreglass was really an obnoxious shade of red, and far too noticeable. He knew a place that wouldn't balk at the stitches, but would balk at the cast. Kid decided to swing by his apartment on his way to the bar, and grab something to disguise his injury.

His apartment was in a rundown building heading toward the rougher part of town, a one room bachelor suite that he barely stayed in. Kid practically lived at the garage when they weren't travelling, so he didn't need much. He shoved the door open with his good shoulder after he unlocked it, the mouldy wood so swollen it was impossible to get into the place without a fair bit of brute force. He kicked the boots away from the door, and began to dig through the piles of clothing on the floor.

It took him ten minutes, during which his temper didn't cool at all, but he found an old oversized coat that he could wear over his shoulders. The drape of it hid a fair bit of his cast, and Kid just wrapped a greasy rag over what was still visible. He slammed the door shut behind him, and made his way down the back alleys, following the smell of sour beer and the sounds of drunken laughter. It was only a few blocks to where he was going, and he grinned in anticipation when he saw the crooked doors.

The Sabaody bar was the darkest, dirtiest, and most violent in the whole city: and it suited Kid perfectly.

He shoved through the entrance, purposely banging into as many people as he could on his way to the bar. More than a few feet were crushed by Kid's steel-toed boots, and he especially focused on those who were drinking. Smirking, he sat down on one of the stained stools, and spat on the floor.

"Get me a beer."

The bartender shoved a bottle of cheap, warm, beer across the counter to him, and Kid used the metal edge of the stool to knock the top off. The bar had gone so silent that he could hear himself swallowing, as he chugged down half the bottle. Then the muttering started, and Kid could practically feel the anger being directed at him. Only a regular could get away with his attitude, and he hadn't been to the bar in years.

A man that towered over even Kid's impressive height came up to the bar, and leaned on the counter. The bartender gave him a beer without being asked and even took the top off it first. Kid began to smile around his own beer, knowing what was coming next.

"You've got a lot of nerve, red."

"And you've got a lot of ugly."

Kid's fight turned out to be much shorter than he had hoped. The man slugged Kid with a right hook before Kid turned to face him, and the man was strong enough that he knocked the redhead off his stool. The man also made direct contact with Kid's stitches.

A punch that hard would have split open the skin of a normal person, and Kid's face didn't just split, it ripped. He felt the stitches give way and the flow of hot blood, but that didn't stop him from lunging to his feet and driving his elbow into the taller man's ribs. The man fell back a step and Kid managed to deliver a solid punch to the jaw, but then another right hook to the face flattened Kid. He got up to his knees slowly, head spinning as blood ran down his face and splattered onto the barroom floor.

"What the hell is this?"

The stranger was staring at his fist in revulsion, and Kid could see blood coating the knuckles, a stray stitch stuck in the gore. The bartender swung the fly-spotted light bulb over to shine on the redhead, and Kid saw them all step back in disgust when they got a good look.

Even as the black spots took over his vision, Kid managed to give the other man the finger with a sneer. He thought he heard sirens before he pitched forward onto his face, and passed out.

* * *

_(Okay after this we should be done with the cliffhanger-ish endings for a while. Thanks for reading! And happy Canada Day to you all!)_


	3. Chapter 3 - The Deal

When Kid opened his eye, he knew where he was this time. Although he was surprised that he even got to the hospital. Did he have a guardian angel or some shit like that? He never did ask Killer who found him in the garage, and he had a hard time believing that someone in the bar had actually called an ambulance. But thinking took too much effort. The clean white ceiling was still too bright, and he closed his eye with a groan. Rather than a dull ache, the left side of his face was throbbing worse than his arm. Unsteadily, he tried to reach up and check out the damage, but his hand was stopped before he even reached his chin.

Kid opened his eye again, and found a long, bony hand gripping his wrist. There were designs across the knuckles that seemed out of place against all the white and pastel polka dots. Kid was too groggy to even properly register his horror at being in a hospital gown. He looked from the hand to the arm to the body and saw the same doctor from the day before, the one with the polar bear pin.

"Th' fuck kind of a doctor has DEATH tattooed on his hand?"

The doctor, Law, scowled down at Kid as if the redhead was a stripped screw. With more strength than Kid had expected, the man forced Kid's arm back down to the bed.

"The kind that has unnecessarily seen the same patient twice in less that a week."

Law leaned forward, his hands fisted tightly into the material of his grey-blue slacks. His glare could have peeled paint. There was no trace of the amusement he had had the day before. Kid was a little surprised at the amount of anger sparking in the doctor's pale eyes. Kid didn't pick up on subtle hints. So for him to be able to tell that the doctor was angry, even with the pain, spoke volumes.

"Mr. Kid," Law started, regaining the redhead's attention, "are you able to comprehend the enormity of what you did last night?"

This seemed to require a response on his part, so Kid shrugged. Law's frown became more severe, and one bony hand came up to rub at his goatee in aggravation.

"What you did, Mr, Kid, was obliterate a perfectly performed procedure. Two layers of stitches placed with great deliberation had ensured that your facial scarring would be no more than a fine line."

"However," Law's voice raised slightly, "your recklessness and the consequent damage has ensured that even with my best effort, you will now heal with scars that will look like they were attended to by a bear."

"An' who gives a fuck?"

"I happen to!"

"Not my problem, doc. I'm not gonna act like I'm fucking invalid because of a few pieces of plastic string in my face."

"Not your problem?" Law repeated, his voice as thin and cold as winter air. "On the contrary, Mr. Kid; it is very much your problem."

Law crossed his arms and gave Kid a long, hard, look.

"Not only were your facial lacerations damaged, you applied unnecessary force to your arm and nearly misaligned the healing bones. You are one small accident away from needing your entire arm restrained, which could very well lead to painful and highly limited mobility in your shoulder by the time the cast is removed. And you deliberately allowed grease to be in contact with your arm which could have lead to serious infection."

"Get to the point." Kid said, exaggerating a yawn. He scratched at the back of his hand, trying to wiggle his fingers under the rim of the cast.

The amusement began to come back into the doctor's expression in response to the redhead's nonchalance, that same twisted smile as before that implied the man found something about Kid's situation humorous.

"Very well," Law said silkily, "the point is you are going to be staying in the hospital until such a time we are confident you are not a danger to yourself."

Kid snarled, grabbed Law by the front of his white jacket and used it to pull himself upright. He kept his grip on it, using his height advantage to glare down at the doctor. Even as his head spun from the sudden movement, he yanked Law forward so he could growl right into the man's face.

"You can't fucking do that."

"Oh, but I can." Law's amusement was more than clear now. "The hospital will hold those who are unfit to care for themselves. Your case is perhaps unusual, but I have…shall we say, government connections that will make it very hard for you to get out of this."

The redhead was so furious, that he considered he could be better off if he strangled the creep and went on the run. His grip tightened ever so slightly, although it received no response from Law.

"Why" Kid asked, "the fuck do you care so damn much?"

"I don't."

Seemingly unconcerned by the hand at his throat, Law raised his eyebrows slightly.

"It would be more accurate to say that I don't care on an emotional level. I simply don't like to work unnecessarily, and corpses are bad for my reputation."

"Well too fucking bad. I'm not staying in this hospital or any hospital for a second longer than I need to!"

Kid pushed the doctor back and away, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. When he stood his head spun again, and for a horrible moment Kid thought he might throw up. But luckily the feeling passed. The tie at the back of the hospital gown was just done in a bow, and Kid was able to yank on it one handed and get it untied. He was grateful that he still had his pants on. One less piece of clothing to deal with meant he could get out of the hospital faster.

Law, who had remained inactive while Kid handled the gown, got up when Kid went to put on a shirt. He wordlessly took the garment from the redhead, and carefully eased it over the injured limb and over Kid's head. Not a single stitch was even grazed by the material, nor was the cast jarred.

Surprised by how quickly and efficiently the doctor had aided him with getting dressed, Kid forgot to be angry about it. He was a bit suspicious too, of why the man had helped him when he had just threatened to not let him leave. Sitting on the edge of the bed he looked to the door, and then at Law.

"So you gonna let me leave then?" Kid asked.

"What if I were to offer you an alternative to the hospital?" Law replied enigmatically. "A place where you can recover in relative privacy while retaining access to exemplary care?"

"What the hell kind of place is that?"

"…My house."

Kid just stared at the other man, too confused to even respond with swearing.

"Huh?"

"You're unemployed at the moment, correct?" Law said, "If I were to offer you room and board at no cost other than remaining under my care for two weeks, would it not make sense for you to accept?"

Whether it made sense or not, two weeks was a long time to be inactive. Kid scratched an exposed area of skin near the stitches on his shoulder as he thought. Free food and a free place to stay that didn't stink of mould were pretty good incentives. And no matter how much he hated it, he really wasn't able to work in the condition he was in. He wondered if he was expected to stay sober for the two weeks, and voiced the thought out loud.

"That include booze, doc?"

Law frowned, but seemed to seriously consider the question.

"I will allow the consumption of six beers, or three ounces of distilled liquor per day."

Now that made the whole thing sound really tempting. Free food, free booze, place that wasn't a hospital, and all he had to do was not die of fucking boredom. Maybe with Law being a doctor, the guy wouldn't even be home that much and Kid could go out and wander around if he wanted. Law wouldn't even know that he was slipping off, as long as he didn't fuck himself up in the process.

There was also still the question of how serious Law was about having Kid forced to stay in a hospital if he refused. The doctor didn't seem like the type to make empty threats or bluff. The man had a lot of nerve to threaten a guy like Kid, and then basically invite him into his home. Kid began to smirk. It could be an interesting two weeks.

"Fine. You got a deal, Law."

"Excellent."

They shook hands, Kid's large one dwarfing Law's bony one. The entire proposal was beyond insane, and Kid wondered which of them would regret agreeing to it first.

_(Hey y'all! I unexpectedly got double my usual shifts this week and part of next week, so the next update might be a tad slow. I honestly think there was more dialogue in this chapter than in any other story I've ever written. Thanks to everyone who's following!)_


	4. Chapter 4 - The Car

With the paperwork out of the way and Law done his shift, the next thing to do was go to Kid's apartment and collect anything he might need over the two weeks. Law had insisted they drive, assuming that Kid would need to collect more belongings than what could be comfortably carried by doctor and patient. While Kid didn't like the implication that he couldn't manage his own stuff, he had to admit that he was at least a little curious about what type of car Law drove. Even if Kid specialized in race cars, he still liked and appreciated other types.

The staff parking lot was huge, and packed with BMWs, Mercedes, and a few Honda minivans in the mix as well. Most were respectable cars, respectable colours. The car Law stopped in front of was anything but.

The Porsche was canary yellow, with custom paint on the driver door depicting a strange grinning symbol in black and a rich orange. Chrome and black hubcaps stood out against the high gloss finish on the body and the worn rubber of the extra wide tires. It almost looked like it had come straight out of an automotive calendar, which was the only place Kid had ever seen that car before.

"That's a 1973 Carrera RS." Kid said, somewhat grudgingly impressed. "That's one hell of a classic racer. How did you get your hands on one?"

Law shrugged with a faint smile on his face.

"It was a rusted out touring model and one of my patients was a collector."

"So you got it cheap, huh?" Kid walked around the car, trying to not admire it too obviously. "You got a lot of balls to custom paint this and not just restore it."

"Perhaps."

The doctor unlocked the doors, carefully stowing his coat and bag in the minimal amount of space behind the front seats. After a moment of fiddling he got the seats adjusted so they were farther away from the dash, looking at Kid appraisingly.

"My apologies, Mr. Kid. I had never planned on transporting someone of your stature in this vehicle."

Kid just rolled his eyes and went over to the passenger door. He wasn't about to admit that he was more than willing to be a little cramped to ride in the classic Porsche; he'd sound like a teenage girl. He opened the door, and manoeuvred his arm so he could cram himself in without banging it about. He had to hunch down a bit to keep his head from touching the roof, but it wasn't as tight as he had been anticipating. It really wasn't so much his height as his width that was the problem.

But it was tight enough where Kid knew it was going to be a pain in the ass to get his seat belt on. With the buckle positioned above his right shoulder, he would have to use his right arm to get a hold of it. Swearing, Kid leaned inward to give himself more room to twist back.

"Here, I'll get that."

That was all the warning Kid got before Law, who had just been getting into the driver's seat, stretched across the redhead and calmly caught hold of the buckle.

With Kid's height and injuries, Law ended up with one hand on the headrest holding himself away from the cast and the other on the seat belt. His shoulder was inches from Kid's face, the faded black collar of the doctor's dress shirt nearly touching the redhead's nose. The only thought that came to Kid's mind was that he was grateful Law didn't smell of antiseptic, and then the doctor smoothly pulled back and buckled Kid in as if he did it all the time.

"Don't treat me like a fucking invalid." Kid growled, adjusting the synthetic material so it didn't dig into the side of his neck.

Law just smiled that thin, enigmatic smile and buckled his own seat belt. The doctor put the key in the ignition and started the engine, the Porsche roaring to life. It sounded like a large angry wasp when Law revved it, the sound matching the bold colour of the body. Law began to detail the route he was going to take to arrive at Kid's apartment in optimum time, his voice just audible over the hum of the flat-6 engine. Kid tuned out the doctor and focused on that sound.

The rumble was something familiar in the mess of fucked up shit that had been the last couple days, and Kid found himself dozing off to it. Soon the buildings faded into a blur, Kid only being able to guess where they were from the level of disrepair. His apartment was a long way off still.

In the distance there was the faint wail of a police siren, and Kid blinked a few times. He must have fallen completely asleep; they were only three blocks away now. Law had slowed down considerably, cautious of the neighbourhood where drunks stumbled across the road with no concern of the traffic that may be there.

The Porsche screamed money in an area that had none, and Kid saw more than a few people look at the car with anger, greed, or distrust. Greed seemed to be winning out though. More people than Kid had seen out before dusk were following the car's progress, and not subtly either. The redhead gave one of the teens his best 'fuck off' glare and was surprised when he got zero response.

"These windows tinted or something?"

"They are, and we've arrived."

Law killed the engine, putting the car into park. He unbuckled his own seatbelt before reaching over and undoing Kid's as well. The doctor seemed more than a little surprised when Kid twisted around and grabbed him by the wrist, holding him in place.

"Listen up. Don't get out before I say so."

"If you plan to run off…"

"_Fuck_ off. I plan to make sure the two of us and the car all get to leave in one piece."

Scowling, Kid opened the door and got out. His scowl switched to a broad grin when the people gathered around took a step back, some of them involuntarily. They knew exactly who he was. Most of the younger ones took off, slipping away into the alleys and off in search of easier pickings. But enough stayed put to make Kid annoyed. His mouth was a bit dry, and he swore he could taste the smell of the hospital. With an honest grimace he spat on the ground, narrowly missing the front tire. It was a possessive action, and he could see the uncertainty increase in the remaining crowd.

"What the hell do you lot think you're looking at?" The redhead sneered, slamming the car door shut with just enough force to not damage anything.

That was all he needed to do to make up their minds, and the street emptied quickly. Kid almost rolled his eyes at the spinelessness of his neighbours. He had expected at least some of them to try their luck considering he was in a cast and still swollen and bruised around his stitches. The whole thing had been far too easy, and he was scowling again when he rapped on the driver side window.

"Let's get this show on the road, doc."

One of the steps had broken out of the wooden staircase since the last time Kid had stopped by his apartment, and he swore as he used his boot heel to snap the rotten edges off so they didn't catch on anything. The last thing he needed was to trip down the stairs and break his other damn arm. He dug the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, and kicked it as hard as damn well could to jar it open. He saw Law's eyebrows raise substantially when he glanced over his shoulder at the other man, but the doctor chose not to comment.

At least not until they got inside.

"You live here?" Law asked, and though there was no emphasis placed on any part of the sentence, Kid thought it sounded a little strangled.

"When I have to."

Kid kicked an empty pizza box into the corner, and stared at the cobwebs it lodged in with disgust. A leak had sprung in the roof while he was gone too, a ragged edge and a noticeable sag in the ceiling over his bed. The stench of mould seemed stronger, and Kid almost felt like gagging. Then and there, he decided that he wasn't going to come back after his two weeks with Law were up. Maybe it was because he was looking at it more critically than usual, or something about Law's tone, but Kid was suddenly too sickened by the place to ever come back.

His toolboxes were without a doubt the most important things he owned, and he pulled the three of them out from under the bed. They were rusted, dinged, and smeared with a fair amount of grease. Kid didn't want to fuck up the upholstery in the Porsche, so he grabbed some old t-shirts and wrapped the toolboxes in them. He stripped the thin blanket off his bed and started to toss any of his clothing that he liked or was useful into the centre. Anything he encountered that he didn't care about he pitched across the room into the same corner as the pizza box.

Kid had just about finished the area immediately closest to the bed when he realized the doctor hadn't said anything for a while. He didn't see the other man at first glance, and Kid assumed he was in the washroom or the tiny kitchen. Trying to blow his sweaty bangs off his forehead, he tied the blanket into a knot around the remains of his wardrobe. With his foot he pushed the wrapped toolboxes the length of the room to the door, knowing that picking them up would probably set Law off.

"Oy, Law! What the hell are you up to?" Kid hollered, dropping the blanket sack at the door along with his tools.

Sticking his head into the kitchen, Kid saw nothing worth keeping except for a half-finished mickey of whiskey that he promptly jammed into his back pocket. That left the washroom as the only place for the doctor to be if he was still in the apartment.

As soon as he thought it, the door to the tiny washroom opened and Law stalked out looking like he had a broomstick up the back of his shirt.

"I will be supplying you with new, _clean, _necessities such as a toothbrush and bath linen. I suggest you only keep these." And with absolutely no expression, he put Kid's cologne and hairbrush onto the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," Kid said, "I guess two years is a long damn time to have the same toothbrush."

And savouring the look of complete horror on the doctor's face, Kid snagged his stuff off the counter and went to the door.

"We goin'?"

* * *

_(Hey! So right after talking to my mom about how good my computer has been, it gave me an effed up error message thing and it looks like I may be without/severely limited in my computer use for a while. Love you all, thanks for following/faving, I'll get back to this as soon as I can.)_


	5. Chapter 5 - The Shift

Some people would have found it sad that the sum of their possessions could fit, with room, into the trunk of a car. Kid found it practical. He climbed back into the Porsche, buckling himself in before Law could even begin to reach over. The doctor gave Kid a look that was slightly amused, before he started the engine and backed out onto the main street. Traffic was still thin, rush hour being a way away yet. Law had no qualms about driving at and above the speed limit, and Kid watched the buildings fly by without interest. Same shit, different look.

They stuck to the highway, skirting the edges of the main residential area. Kid eventually noticed they were moving toward the downtown core and the hospital. He supposed that it only made sense for the doctor to live nearby it. When they turned off the highway to the north, Kid saw an immediate change in their surroundings. The houses that were set well back fro the road were bigger than the entire apartment building Kid had so recently lived in. Fancy gates and fences that looked like fake castle walls were everywhere. Fancy everything was everywhere really.

Even though he had known that Law was a successful doctor who could afford restoring and customizing a rare classic car, Kid felt a certain kind of disgust that Law was _that_ kind of rich.

"So which city block is yours?" Kid growled, wondering if it would really fuck his arm up if he bailed from the moving car.

"Hm? As if I would reside in any of these." Law said, his tone suspiciously light in the face of Kid's mounting temper.

Something about the way the doctor glanced sidelong at Kid made the redhead pause before he lost his cool. His instincts told him that Law was making fun of him or being sarcastic. Since the doctor seemed to have one hell of a poker face Kid decided to trust his instincts and play along. The way Law had phrased his answer had made the rich houses sound like the slums, so Kid played off it.

"Too small, or are the neighbours shit?"

"Most certainly the neighbours." Law had a glint in his eye when he looked at Kid, "You would not believe the commotion they make at the sight of blood."

"Your blood or theirs?"

Law's sly smile briefly turned up at the corners, but the doctor quickly turned to look out his window before Kid could be sure if he had just seen the other man grin. Kid couldn't help but smile himself. Maybe the doctor had a sense of humour beyond seeing people fuck themselves up after all.

"So where do you live then?"

"Nearby."

At the end of the long row of mansions and yards that screamed wealth there was what looked like a city park. Law took the road that ran to the right of it, a steep downward turn that would be a bitch to go up on anything without a motor. The trees and greenery continued all the way to the bottom, like some strange tunnel of nature. Kid relaxed against the leather seat as they drove, knowing from the way the plants grew over the fences that they were out of the fancy ass neighbourhood.

The trees thinned out when the road levelled, and the houses finally came into view. After the experience with the car, Kid kept his eyes open for any obnoxious colours hiding in amongst all the pastel and white. The houses all had that sensible suburban look to them, and Kid wagered that if he counted they would all have the perfect average of cars and children. As each passing house brought the same thing, he felt uneasy when he couldn't find an odd one out. The thought of the doctor having a wife and kids and blending in or some shit like that was fucking weird.

But when Law pulled into the driveway of the house at the end of street, the redhead almost groaned when he saw what made the doctor's house different.

"I thought you said corpses were bad for your reputation?" Kid asked as he grinned at the shiny black hearse with the same orange symbol as the Porsche, parked facing the road.

Law gave Kid a look that on anyone else could have passed as wide-eyed innocence, but on the doctor just looked like conniving bastard.

"That's just my van."

Kid full out laughed at that, and he thought he saw an answering smile on the other man's face again. The redhead was starting to think that it might not be so bad if he had to be cooped up in the house, as long as Law was there to talk to. Kid could appreciate a sense of humour that was a little bit sick.

As Law popped the hood and started to unload Kid's belongings, the redhead wandered over to the hearse for a better look. Apart from the paint, it appeared that the suspension had also been adjusted to lift it higher off the road, and Kid was pretty sure that chrome bumpers weren't usually standard. The inside had been redone too, and all in all it really did look just like a van's interior.

A dull rattle caught his attention, and Kid turned to see Law manually open the garage door. The inside was clean and uncluttered, the only prominent feature being the heavy stainless steel shelves that covered all three walls. They were mostly empty, and Kid eyed all the free space on the lowest shelf of the unit facing the driveway.

"Hey, it alright if I drop the toolboxes here?"

"If you do not literally drop them, yes."

"Smartass." Kid muttered under his breath, heading back to the Porsche and grabbing the biggest toolbox.

The shelving unit was sturdy, and large enough to easily hold all of Kid's tools, even the few random ones that didn't fit into the boxes. He put them into place without bothering to take the grease-stained shirts off. The cotton muffled the sound for a start, and this way there wouldn't be any scratches from Kid sliding everything around if he wanted to get something.

Just as the redhead straightened up there was a loud crash and Kid turned to check on the doctor, wondering what the hell had just happened. The other man was standing at the garage entrance, and had a rather disgruntled look on his face.

"I said _don't_ drop them!" Law snapped, glaring at Kid over the armful of laundry he had just retrieved from the car.

"What?! That wasn't me you moron, I thought it was you!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Law started, dropping the clothing into a basket near the door that led into the house, "you obviously-"

Another crash cut him off, and both men looked up at the ceiling where the sound had come from.

"Oh no."

Law bolted for the door to the house and unlocked it, running up the stairs with an urgency Kid hadn't thought the man was capable of. Kid ran after him, taking the stairs two steps at a time to catch up and nearly ploughing the doctor over when he reached the top. Law was standing stock still at the top of the stairs with a look of frozen dismay on his face, staring at the food all over his kitchen and the skinny young man sitting in front of the refrigerator and stuffing himself with what looked like slices of roast beef. The intruder looked over his shoulder, a piece of meat gripped in his teeth, and waved cheerfully.

"Hiiiii!"

"Agh!" Law cried, lunging forward and grabbing the boy by the collar, the moment of shock apparently broken. "What are you doing?!"

The boy, who looked like he might be in his teens, freed himself from the doctor's grip. Rather than looking ashamed or guilty, he looked positively ecstatic. With a loud laugh he tackled Law, beaming.

"Traffy!"

Law's expression was partway between horror and resignation as he was knocked to the floor and affectionately strangled by the gangly youth. Resignation seemed to win out, and Law just stayed flat on the floor with the boy sitting on the doctor's stomach. The only effort the older man really made to defend himself from the friendly attack was to hold onto the boy's wrists and keep him somewhat stationary.

Kid couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for Law, and after a moment he reached over and grabbed the boy's skinny upper arm and lifted him off the doctor.

"Move it, small fry."

"Hey!" The youth protested, squirming out of the redhead's grip and launching himself right back at the doctor. "Traffy, who's this?"

"He's a patient." Law said, pushing the boy over and sitting up. "Don't you dare do anything to damage his stitches, Luffy."

"Okay!" Luffy replied, grinning again. "Are you keeping him too?"

Kid raised his eyebrows at that. That sounded highly suspicious, and he leaned back against the wall, waiting to see if an explanation was coming.

"Yes, Luffy. Mr. Kid is staying here to get better. So he's going to need lots of rest, and quiet. Which means," and Law gave the boy an extremely stern look, "you can't be dropping in for the next three weeks."

"Awww!" Luffy whined, "Really?"

"Really."

Law stood and picked Luffy up around the waist, the boy whining about not being able to eat meat for three whole weeks and acting like a piece of floppy rubber. Ignoring the fuss the doctor carried the boy to the front door, opened it, and tossed him out onto the lawn on his ass.

"Three weeks!" Law repeated loudly, before he slammed the door shut and went over to the couch and sank down onto it with a groan. He had barely finished his groan when the door shot back open, and Luffy stuck his head around the corner.

"Traffy?"

The only answer from the doctor was an even louder groan, and Kid almost laughed.

"Does this mean you don't want us to do the yard again this month?"

"Yes Luffy. Now go away."

"Okay!" The teen yelled brightly and, with a vigorous wave goodbye to both Law and Kid, slammed the door behind him.

Kid walked over to Law, and grinned when the doctor put both hands over his own face and groaned again. From the messy hair to the partly unbuttoned shirt, Kid quite liked how dishevelled Law looked. It was something new, and something that made the man seem like less of an uptight creep. Rather than sitting down, the redhead leaned on the back on the couch, and rapped his knuckles somewhat gently on Law's head.

"Three weeks, huh?" Kid asked, eyebrow raised.

"I would have told him four if I thought he would believe it." Law said with a sigh, "But I only had him for three, and he was in far worse condition than you."

"So that's why he said you were keeping me too. You make holding your patients hostage a habit?"

"Just the ones too stupid to take care of themselves."

"Better watch your mouth, _Traffy_." Kid said, and thoroughly enjoyed the disgusted look the doctor gave him through his fingers.

"It's getting late," Law said, pointedly ignoring the nickname, "We ought to turn in for the night."

Maybe it was the slump of Law's shoulders or the way the fluorescent light made the circles under his eyes stand out, but the redhead's instinctive urge to tell the doctor to go fuck himself for suggesting Kid go to bed sputtered out almost immediately. He knew from the ridiculous little profiles the hospital had posted about all their main doctors that Law was only three years older than himself, but the man seemed so much older in that moment.

"Whatever. Show me where I'm crashing."

As he lay in the doctor's guest room, the sheets cleaner and the bed softer than he was used to, Kid absently ran his fingers over the raised flesh and stitches in his neck. It itched, but he knew scratching it would be bad idea. His face was still swollen, and he almost wished he had just drunk himself out cold. All the talking and laughing had aggravated his cuts.

It was fucking surreal, that he was stretched out in a stranger's house. A stranger that had more to his personality than Kid would have given him credit for. The quick instances of warped humour, the sly grin, and the complete and utter inability to deal with the Luffy boy had all added up to make Law more than a smug bastard Kid had intended to avoid like the goddamn plague. The sly grin especially stayed on Kid's mind.

That grin promised trouble. And Kid had a thing for trouble.

* * *

_(Sorry for the wait. It looks like the extra hours at work are remaining, so the updates are probably going to take longer than a week from now on __. Good news is the computer seems to have responded well to being fixed. And if anyone's wondering my dad used to work as a mechanic and LOVES old cars, and it kinda rubbed off on me. So if anyone is wondering about all the details I put in about cars, that's probably why. Also, in my effort to get this posted ASAP, I'm not really proofreading/editing the chapters. So if you notice any glaring mistakes, do let me know __ Also, shoutout to Trafalgar Marijane for always reviewing and being supportive! I love all you awesome folks who have followed or reviewed this.)_


	6. Chapter 6 - The Formalities

Kid decided that the first rule of staying in someone else's house should be to find out where the goddamn bathroom was.

He sat with his legs stretched out on either side of the toilet, with his one arm resting on the rim and propping up his head while he waited out another wave of nausea. Kid didn't even know what time it was. He had woken up from a dead sleep and all he had known was that he was going to be violently ill. So he had had to run through the fucking house trying to find the bathroom, all while he was still half asleep and trying to not bash his broken arm into any of the walls.

There hadn't even been anything substantial in his stomach in the end. Just bile that burned his throat and dry heaves that made him worry he was going to pop out his stitches and have to take another trip to the hospital. Everything seemed to have stayed in place so far, but he still hoped that whatever the hell it was that had made him sick had run its course and he could go back to bed soon.

"This is why you don't mix alcohol and medication, idiot."

Kid flinched, his chin slipped off his hand and he almost banged his head into the toilet. He scowled over at the doctor, thinking it was still creepy how the other man could move so silently.

"Who says I did?"

Law, who looked like he had gotten next to no sleep, held out a bottle. Dangling from the doctor's long fingers was the bottle of whiskey Kid had salvaged from his old apartment and knocked back to try and help him sleep. He had forgotten that he had drunk that until now.

"Fucking hell."

"Yes, that about sums it up," Law drawled, putting the empty bottle onto one of the neatly organized shelves, "if you feel well enough to stand you should drink something non-alcoholic and possibly eat as well since we're up."

Slowly, his one knee cracking in complaint, Kid got to his feet. Now that his stomach had stopped rebelling, Kid was aware of how sweaty he was and how it was really damn cold in the bathroom. Being sick really messed with his body temperature.

"Here."

Law was holding out a washcloth and a brand new toothbrush to Kid, as if it was an entirely normal situation to be in. Kid used the washcloth and some hot water first to wipe the sweat off his face and neck, being extra careful of his stitches since the doctor was right there. Leaving the dripping cloth draped over the sink, he started brushing his teeth, cleaning the taste of the bile from his mouth. Out of the corner of his good eye he saw Law pick up the washcloth and he figured that the other man was just going to hang it up somewhere so it could dry.

So when Law started gently wiping the sweat from Kid's back, the redhead almost swallowed the toothbrush.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Kid choked out, trying to get his breath back.

"Helping you warm up. You're pale, even for you." Law replied with a slight smile. It faded quickly though when his focus switched to Kid's jeans.

"You sleep in your street clothing?"

"Yeah. My lace nightie was dirty."

The huff of air that escaped the doctor's clenched teeth could have been laughter or disgust, and with Law's poker face firmly in place it was impossible to tell which. Law neatly hung up the washcloth finally and opened up a narrow closet that appeared to be filled with towels and bed sheets. As Kid watched, the doctor carefully pulled out several stacks of linens before selecting something slightly fuzzy and hideously bright orange with white blobs.

After replacing the linens with the same meticulous care, Law stood up and held the orange material out to Kid.

"Blanket. Wrap yourself up."

There had to be worse things that sitting in a near-strangers house wrapped in a polar-bear patterned blanket and being made to drink a protein shake; Kid just couldn't think of anything at that moment. Pulling your own car onto yourself was probably the only thing that came close, but since it was directly related to his current state the redhead wasn't sure it actually counted.

A protein shake made by someone who had nothing but health on the mind didn't taste the greatest either, and Kid pulled a face as he took another sip. Law was preoccupied with preparing plain toast for the redhead though, and missed it. Kid didn't mind too much. Law being distracted meant that Kid could study the doctor without interruption. The redhead had the suspicion that if the other man stopped long enough to realize he was shirtless, he would put something on.

That would be a shame, because Kid appreciated a well done tattoo; and Law was covered in them.

Well, he wasn't really covered in them, but he had a large one on his chest and shoulders that curved and moved with the lines of his body. The heart shape suited him in a way Kid wouldn't have anticipated. The same grinning face on both of Law's cars was also on his back, and more abstract designs were on his forearms. For a guy that seemed to love bright colours, all the tattoos were plain black and white. With all the tattoos, Law could have fit in easily in Kid's neighbourhood, and for a second Kid wondered if the doctor ever had.

Law put the plate of toast down, as well as a small bottle of what looked like prescription painkillers. Nudging it around with his forefinger, Kid could see his full name printed on the label and all the other usual info. They were strong painkillers, but not the type that would keep him bedridden from side effects. He'd probably have to take one soon, before the pain caught up with him.

Taking meds on an empty stomach was a bad idea though. So Kid bit into a piece of the dry bread and tore a chunk off, wondering if it would taste like a pizza box if he added tomato sauce. It certainly had the same texture. Law caught the look on the redhead's face that time, and raised his eyebrows.

"Do you want a glass of water?"

"Yeah, that might help."

Law took Kid's mostly finished protein shake and brought it to the sink, rinsing down what was left and giving it a quick wash. He then went to the fridge, apparently being the type that didn't drink tap water, where he suddenly went stock still. The look on the doctor's face seemed familiar, and Kid got up to look over Law's shoulder and see what it was that had made the man seize up.

Attached to Law's fridge with what looked like a whole value pack of arctic animal magnets were drawings that looked like they had been done by a child. They were signed with the name Luffy though and Kid started to snicker as Law began snatching the papers off the steel appliance, as frantically as if they were pornography. Now Kid remembered why the look on Law's face was familiar: it was identical to the night before when the teen had been raiding that same fridge.

With a mumbled excuse of some sort, the doctor made a beeline for a room down the hall. The room looked like it might be some sort of office. There were even little certificates hung on the wall. Kid saw Law put all the drawings and magnets into a large box that was neatly labelled with "Mugiwara", and shove it under the desk with a thump. From the size of the box and its slight bulging, Kid wagered that Law had more squiggly crayon drawings than most parents.

Leaving Law to fight with the papers that had escaped the box, Kid went back to the fridge and opened it up. He poked around until he located a filter jug filled with what appeared to be water. Just to be sure he cautiously sniffed it first to make absolutely certain it wasn't vodka. He really did not want to be sick again.

There was a small digital clock set into the fridge door, the green numerals showing that it was already six in the morning. Considering how early he had gone to sleep the night before, Kid found it hard to believe that he still felt like sleeping more. He sat back down with the jug after retrieving his cleaned glass from where Law had left it by the sink, and gnawed on his cold toast. At least the car hadn't fucked up his teeth.

The doctor returned from the office, brushing his hands off on his fuzzy black pyjama pants and leaving dust marks. With barely a glance at the redhead, Law turned on the coffee machine and set about making himself his own plate of toast. Surprisingly, he chose to leave his plain too. He sat across from Kid at the little island in the kitchen, and fished a day old newspaper out from under the water jug. Law chewed absently on a piece of toast as he flipped the pages, reading only on the obituaries and political stories. The only other page he paused briefly on was the one with the second hand car sales.

His own breakfast long finished, Kid just watched the doctor read the paper for a couple minutes.

"Hey, doc?"

"Yes, Mr. Kid?"

"When you have to go to work?"

Law looked over his shoulder at the clock, and choked.

"Now."

For someone who was late, the doctor managed to get himself together without looking like he was actually hurried. If it had been Kid, he would have been crashing around and swearing his head off. Law just moved with precision and speed, following some sort of routine that looked planned and practiced. It probably helped that the doctor's house didn't have junk piled in the hallways like an additional obstacle course.

His white dress shirt neatly buttoned, Law paused at the door as he slipped on his shiny leather shoes. Tapping his heels on the floor to adjust the fit, he knotted his tie at the same as he looked over at the redhead leaning against the wall.

"You should be fine to eat light foods for the rest of the day, but alcohol is still inadvisable until tomorrow, Mr. Kid."

"Yeah yeah, I get it. And it's Kid."

"Pardon?"

"I've thrown up in your house, stop with the formal shit and just call me Kid."

Law, his hair still not brushed and sticking out at odd angles, looked for a short moment like he didn't quite understand. And then he smiled; a crooked smirk that he didn't try to hide.

"I suppose I'll have to."

* * *

_(Hey y'all! That was a long wait, I'm sorry. Honestly when I first posted this story I expected to be done in a few chapters, but it seems like I end up writing out certain scenes more than I expect! It's pretty late so I haven't proofread this much, let me know if I made any spelling/grammar etc mistakes. Enjoy! Thanks to everyone who has faved or reviewed or followed. Much appreciated 3 )_


	7. Chapter 7 - The Implication

Summer was in full tilt, the sun out well before seven and the air thick with humidity by eight. Birds, bees, and all that other nature shit made an obnoxious racket as Kid sat on the front steps and laced up his boots. He was already sweaty from his fifteen minute battle to get a t-shirt on, and the heat was steadily making his foul mood worse. He was grateful that the painkillers had kicked in at least. It was a definite improvement to no longer feel his heartbeat behind his eyes. Kid could still feel the sting from the sweat getting into his stitches though, so he tied an old bandanna on right below his hairline. While it was the cleanest one he could find, he would still need to clean himself up before Law caught sight of the grease marks.

Kid had the feeling that Law wanted him to rest, especially after his episode of throwing up that morning, but the redhead needed to get back into the city. He needed to talk to his crew, Killer especially, and let them know what all had happened. Unless one of them had tracked down one of his former neighbours, they might think Kid was a body in a back alley waiting to be found.

Like a good little suburban community, all the neighbours were already gone on their ways to their good little nine to five jobs. It was a relief for Kid. He was able to avoid having to talk to anyone, and avoid having anyone witness his laboured trek to the nearest bus stop. The walk to that bus stop was brutally long, and he was starting to pant halfway. Kid probably wouldn't have thought much of it a week ago, but the injuries combined with the sickness and the weather really made him feel like hell.

Luckily even the rush of morning transit commuters was over by the time Kid caught the bus at the end of the street of mansions. He dozed until he got to the city centre, where he switched lines and took a slightly shorter trip on a bus that dropped him off within easy walking distance of the track.

It had only been a couple days, but the track already felt unfamiliar. The burned rubber and gasoline fumes were too heavy after the sterile hospital and the clean-soap smell of the doctor's house. Kid spat on the sidewalk and felt better for it. The track wasn't any worse, he was just getting soft.

The car wasn't in the garage, nor was any member of the crew. Kid almost sighed, and picked up a wrench from the floor and hung it on the appropriate peg on the wall. Closing the door behind him, he headed toward the race circuit. They must be doing a practice run or something. After all, the NewWorld 500 was only ten days away. At least he was pretty sure it was ten days now. He hadn't paid much attention to how long he had spent out cold in the hospital or bothered to check the date.

There were a few cars out on the track, none of them going fast. It looked like they were mostly switching lanes and working on manoeuvring. It took Kid a moment to pick out their Ford; his one eye was still a bit swollen and it was affecting his vision. Not to mention they had given the car a new paint job. He grinned when he caught sight of the crew huddled in the pit, watching the video display. The car pulled in as Kid walked toward them, and though the redhead wasn't likely to admit it, he was happy to see that Killer was driving as well as ever.

The blond pulled off his helmet and pulled the tie out of his hair, laughing at something one of the pit crew members said to him. But he stopped mid laugh when he saw Kid.

"Son of a bitch. Kid!"

For a couple minutes no one could make sense of a single damn thing as everyone talked over and in between each other. The general idea Kid got from his crew was that they were glad he was alive, and that someone had gone to his apartment and found it empty and trashed which had made them worry. Eventually Killer got on the crew's case and, after a few more loud hectic minutes, Kid and the blond were shut into the little office by themselves.

"Jeez," Kid groaned, leaning back in the only chair, "I never thought they'd be so damn excited to see me."

"They never thought you would disappear."

Killer sat on the desk, and rubbed at his short beard. "Where the hell did you go after you got out of the hospital, Kid?"

"Long story. Hey, wait just one damn second!" Kid sat upright, the legs of the chair creaking in protest as they slammed into the floor. "How did you know I got stuck in the hospital again?"

"I called the ambulance. I never thought you would pick a fight with Urouge of all damn people."

"Yeah yeah, shut up." Kid grinned crookedly. "It worked out in my favour."

The blond snorted derisively and pulled his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged on the top of the desk, and waited for Kid to continue.

"I get free food, booze, and sleeping space for two weeks. That's worth a couple extra stitches, especially considering that that fucker looked like he was gonna hurl when he saw all my blood on his knuckles."

The redhead almost laughed, recalling the way the entire bar had recoiled when they saw him. He could only imagine what he had looked like to them. He smirked when Killer sighed impatiently and leaned back in the chair again.

"Anyway, I'm staying with one of the doctor's from the hospital."

"Who's willing to put up with you?"

"The same guy that put my arm back together. His name's Law."

"Law? _Trafalgar_ Law?" Killer asked, sounding appalled. "You think staying with him is a good thing? He has a reputation for being a creepy bastard!"

"I'm not saying he isn't. I'm just saying… he's my kind of bastard."

There was a long pause as Killer mulled that over, before he shook his head in amusement. "You always find the weird ones, Kid."

"That includes you, shag-carpet." Kid retorted, standing up and stretching. His back popped a couple times and he could feel the throbbing starting in his stitches again. If he wanted to get back and clean up before the doctor got home he'd have to get moving.

As always, Killer picked up on Kid's thoughts and stood as well. "Before you go, there's something I think you'll like to hear."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I talked to the owners. If you're up to it, they'll pay you to be here on race day as an advisor."

"Fuck _yes _I'll be up to it."

The two men shook hands, grinning.

"Good to have you back, Kid."

* * *

_(Ahhhhhhhh I am so sorryyyyyy. Things went to hell over here in more ways than one, plus with the new semester… Yikes. Just yikes. But I sat down tonight and powered out this update to give you guys something! Next chapter will have more Kid x Law goodness, don't worry. And thank you to everyone who hasn't given up on me yet. I renew my promise that no matter how long it takes, I will NOT abandon this. Ever.)_


	8. Chapter 8 - The Interruption

It was far later than Kid had thought when he had first left the racetrack, and by the time he got to the doctor's front door the redhead sounded like a busted spring in a car seat. Even a light jog was almost beyond Kid's abilities, his cast making him clumsy and off balance and every step jarred his head. But he had made it back without further injury to himself, though his shirt had been less fortunate.

The yellow Porsche was nowhere to be seen and Kid could barely believe his luck. Maybe there had been an emergency at the hospital that had caused Law to stay late. Whatever the reason was, Kid wasn't about to complain about it. It took him a couple tries to find the right key for the front door, but he managed, and he actually felt relieved when he slammed the door shut behind him.

Or at least he did until he walked forward a couple steps and realized he had gotten the hole he had torn in his shirt earlier caught on the door handle.

"Awh, fuck it!"

Kid yanked on the shirt as hard as he damn well could and the rip was the most satisfying thing he could hand imagined. It was a lot easier to get undressed when there was a fourteen-inch tear up the side seam. Wadding the destroyed shirt into a ball, Kid lobbed it into a corner and went to the kitchen. Since he was already halfway undressed, he figured he may as well shower and make sure he got all the grease off.

At some point Law had managed to set up the bathroom to be of use to Kid, with towels and soap and a detailed instruction sheet on how to care for the cast with the provided waterproof sleeves. It took Kid a good twenty minutes longer than it would usually take to shower, but he felt better afterward and even a bit smug that he had kept the cast completely dry. He dressed in his only other pair of jeans and went without a shirt. He wasn't fighting with that shit again.

His painkillers were where he had left them on the island, as well as his water glass. After getting the water jug from the fridge, Kid decided he might as well eat, and he set about searching through it for something edible. After a few unsuccessful tries he found a container filled with the neatly removed remains of a roast chicken that the Luffy boy hadn't found.

Kid was only halfway through gnawing on his second chicken leg when Law came back, loaded down with several shopping bags.

"Do you have any other pants?" Was all that the doctor said as he set everything down.

"Probably." Kid replied, absently looking down at the torn up blue jeans and pulling the waistband away from his body. Had he lost weight?

Law cleared his throat loudly, and put a bag smaller than the rest on the island. Kid immediately perked up at the smell of food. Three take-out containers and the usual jumble of soy sauce packets and chopsticks were inside, and the redhead almost inhaled the rest of the chicken leg in his haste to eat a hot meal.

"I hadn't expected there to be anything worth salvaging in the refrigerator after Luffy had been at it, so I picked up something for dinner." The doctor said with a shrug, setting one of the large containers in front of Kid along with the small container of what looked like soup.

Kid opened the containers to find rice, meat, vegetables and miso soup: lighter food than he was used to, but far better quality. He dug in quickly before it could cool down to much, stuffing food into his mouth in amounts that were far lager than could be considered polite. Law on the other hand ate almost mechanically, and his portion was much smaller. He kept looking at the bags on the floor, and smiling each time.

It would have been really unnerving, but it was what the redhead had decided was Law's not-sadistic smile so Kid figured there was nothing in his future that would include pain and or blood. Hopefully.

Finishing off the last of his food with a pleased belch, he leaned back and grinned.

"That sure was a hell of a lot better than cold chicken."

"Mm." The doctor gathered the containers back into the bag to throw them out, including the half of his own food he hadn't finished.

It was no wonder the guy was so skinny if that was what the doctor considered a meal, Kid thought. It would explain why there were so many protein powders and supplements in the cupboard too. So the doctor didn't sleep or eat? Kid snorted. Add in the whole scary doctor thing the guy had going on, and Kid might have put money down on Law being a vampire, if he hadn't already seen the guy's reflection.

Even though there were maybe two bits of rice on the countertop, Law took a cloth and wiped it down thoroughly with warm water after removing the remaining dishes and the newspaper. Then he gathered all the bags and removed their contents, stacking them in neat piles. There were four carefully arranged stacks by the time the doctor was done, all of them nearly the same height.

Kid stared at the table full of clothing, and snagged what turned out to be a pair of pants off the top of the pile closest to him.

"What the hell are these?" Kid asked, holding the pants out like he might an animal he expected to bite. "It looks like a lizard and giraffe got busy and someone skinned the offspring."

"They are a single article of your new wardrobe." Law said, unfolding a fuzzy maroon housecoat and holding it out by the shoulders. "Although your suggested visual is amusing."

"Hold on, back the hell up! You bought me clothes?"

"Yes. Sleep attire and button up shirts to alleviate difficulties related to your cast."

There didn't seem to be an answer for that that Kid could think of right away, so he gave the yellow and black pants a closer inspection. They were a thick material with a drawstring waist, obviously one of the pants Law expected Kid to use to sleep in. They did feel like they'd be more comfortable than jeans, what with the lack of zippers and metal studs. It would also be a hell of a lot easier to get them on and off one-handed.

No time like the present to find out, Kid thought. And he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off, leaving the denim crumpled on the floor. The drawstring was tied in a tight knot though, and Kid couldn't manage it with one hand.

"Hey Law, gimme a hand and untie this." He said, tossing the pyjama pants at the doctor and hitting the older man square in the face with them.

For a full ten seconds Law just stood stiff as a board, the pants hiding what was probably a murderous expression as Kid roared with laughter. Then Law slowly pulled the offending clothing off his head, leaving his hair even messier than usual and untied the knot. With still no change in expression he went to Kid, who was laughing so hard he had had to sit down, and stuck the redhead's feet into each leg.

"Stand up, Kid."

Kid stood, still trying to repress his laughter, and Law slid the material up to the redhead's waist. He smiled, and too late Kid realized that it was the sadistic one. Law yanked the drawstring so tight that Kid gave an involuntary yelp as he practically lost circulation below the hips, and looked down into the smirking face of the doctor.

"Are you quite done with the histrionics?" Law asked smoothly, pulling even tighter so that Kid had to take a step forward or risk losing skin.

"Guess so." Kid replied, trying not to grit his teeth. After a long pause, he took a voluntary step forward so he was practically right against Law. There was an immediate shift in the doctor's expression, something that was somewhere between intrigued and wary and Kid grinned. He liked people who were willing to put him in his place, but he liked an even playing field even more.

"You're hardly intimidating, _Mister_ Kid."

"That's because I'm not trying to be." The redhead had nearly told the doctor off for the formality, but he had caught a glimpse of a smirk on Law's face and realized the emphasis was meant to tease him.

"Then what are you doing?" Law asked him, his tone suspiciously bland and disinterested. He was a bastard all right, but Kid could play that game.

"Giving you a better view."

A dull hum from the doctor's waist interrupted whatever he had been about to say in reply, and Kid stepped back in disappointment as Law pulled the pager from his belt and his expression slipped back to that of neutral professionalism.

"There's an emergency I need to attend to at the hospital." Law clipped the pager back on and ran a hand through his hair. "I trust you can finish dressing yourself."

"Yeah."

Kid leaned against the wall, making no move to find a shirt as he watched Law pick up his briefcase and put his shoes back on. The redhead was more than a little disgruntled that his fun, and his blatant suggestion to Law about how he might like things to go in the coming days, had been interrupted.

Law opened the door, and looked back over his shoulder with a thin smile.

"Don't wait up."

Kid scowled at the closed door until he heard the car leave. Loosening the too-tight waistband of the pyjama pants, he picked out a shirt that looked big enough and got it on with a hell of a lot less hassle than that morning's tshirt. He turned off the kitchen light, leaving the rest of the clothing on the island, and stomped off to the bedroom he was using.

Lying in bed, Kid kicked the footboard moodily. He had probably been an emergency too.

The doctor better not bring anyone else home with him.

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_(Hey look at that, where the heck did this come from? I have a couple tests/essays coming up so there's probably going to be a looong wait again for the next chapter. I'll keep at it though! Special thanks to Trafalgar Marijane, Steampunk Detective, Racelett, snoopypompom, and CopraMeow. It was really neat to get such positive and happy reviews!)_


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